“Hurt me,” Kohl murmured, gripping my fingers and pulling them from their face to lie against the initial over their heart, hidden by the heavy fabric of their cropped hoodie. “What?” I asked, aghast, even as my blood started to pump harder. My heart picking up at the thought of listening to Kohl beg for me again. I shouldn’t want that. I should want to kiss away their hurt. To build them up into something magical. Not to reduce them into a snotty, sniveling mess as they wailed for me. But I couldn’t deny the way that my body reacted to the idea. There was something twisted in me that needed
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